Now, I'd get a little more dressed than usual, maybe. But it's winter break, so who's stopping me? No rules, no alarms, just me, a blanket, and chaos.
It was New Year's Eve night, and we were talking like we always did, endlessly, casually, as if the world wasn't ending and beginning again in a few hours.
"I think I'll stay awake till midnight this time," I said, twirling my earphone wire.
"Oh, that's great," he replied lazily. "Then maybe me too."
"Maybe? Come on, it's literally the new year. If you stay awake, you'll be the first one I wish."
"Oh, that's the case. By the way, I said maybe because you'll probably fall asleep first," he teased.
"Excuse me?" I gasped dramatically. "I've survived way longer conversations with you than that."
"Then just pass the time while talking," he said, calm but teasing.
"Whatever you say," I muttered, curling deeper into my blanket.
"Good. Don't sleep on me midway like last time," I warned.
"That was one time! And you literally fell asleep mid-sentence, not me," he laughed.
"I did not!" I shot back, failing to sound convincing.
"Oh really? Then who sent me 'gggggghjlllll' at 1:07 a.m.?"
I groaned. "Okay fine, maybe I blinked too long."
"Sure, sure. So, how are you planning to survive till midnight, Miss Sleepyhead?"
"Easy. You'll entertain me."
"Oh? Should I start singing then?"
"Please don't. Let's keep 2025 peaceful."
"Wow. Hurtful. And here I was planning to drop a love song tonight."
I froze. "A love song? For whom?"
"For the vibes," he said quickly, grinning.
"Uh-huh. Totally not suspicious."
"You overthink too much, Kriti," he chuckled.
"And you enjoy confusing me," I shot back.
"Maybe," he said softly. "It's fun watching you guess."
I typed, paused, then said, "Wow, you sound so mysterious now. What's next? TED Talks on emotional damage?"
"Only if you attend the front row," he replied.
"Front row? I'd rather throw tomatoes."
He laughed, the sound spilling through my phone like warmth.
I glanced at the clock. "11:45 already?"
"Yup. Fifteen minutes to a new year. Nervous?"
"About what?"
"I don't know… maybe everything is changing."
I smiled faintly. "I think it already has."
He went quiet for a second. "Yeah," he said softly. "You're right."
The silence wasn't heavy, just calm, like we both knew something was ending and something else was about to begin.
When the clock struck twelve, family came first, of course. Mom dragged me to cut the cake, camera in hand. But the first person I wanted to wish? Him.
12:01 a.m. I messaged him. Lost by a minute? Details. Effort counts more than timing, right?
Almost immediately, his reply popped up. Reflexively, I deleted it as family standing right there. And that… somehow made it the perfect start to a new year.
Later that day, chatting like usual, I was ready to let the moment slide, but then, of course, he texted casually:
"I wished my crush first."
My brain: Wait, what?
My heart: Excuse me?
Me (furiously): "WHAT? Are you serious right now? First priority to someone who doesn't even care about you?"
He probably thought he was being funny or cute, but I felt disbelief and lowkey betrayal in one punch.
"Uh… I just…" he started, but I wasn't letting him finish.
"You could've just lied! Pretended I was first. It mattered to me!" I typed in all caps because nothing else could convey my outrage.
"I didn't think it mattered that much…" he replied quickly.
Didn't think it mattered? It mattered. A lot.
"Seriously? I stayed up, waited for the moment, and you just… gave it to her? Do you even know how that feels?"
He went quiet. I imagined him blinking at his phone, realizing, maybe too late, he messed up.
"Okay, okay… I get it. I didn't mean to hurt you. I just… didn't think about it that way," he finally typed.
I exhaled sharply, tossing my phone onto the bed. Classic. The guy who always says things without thinking, expecting life to slide like butter.
I laughed, bitter, soft, shaking my head. "Of course, you didn't. Why would you?"
Then, as if reading my mind, he said: "Hey… I promise next year, you'll be the first. Only you."
I raised an eyebrow, imagining the smirk on his face. Promises are cute… until broken.
"Yeah, we'll see," I typed, trying to sound calm. But inside, my chest twisted, like it always did when he was infuriating and… impossible to stop thinking about.
Because that's the thing about him. He could ruin a small moment, make my stomach flip, and yet… somehow, I couldn't stop smiling when he said he'd try.